I wrote this post as a response to a prompt at The Red Dress Club: This week, we want you to imagine that after you have died and your daughter/son will be given the gift of seeing a single five-minute period of your life through your eyes, feeling and experiencing those moments as you did when they occurred. What five minutes would you have him/her see? Tell us about them in the finest detail.
The ultrasound gel they put on your belly isn't cold like you'd imagine. It's actually warm and soothing, which is nice considering how on edge and jumpy I feel. My mom is sitting at my feet rubbing my ankle. I'm glad she's here. I'm so nervous, I just can't get the butterflies out of my stomach.
Clif is sitting to my left side, with his mother beside him. It's the first grandchild for both of them. Excited does not cover the way they are feeling.
We invited them both to be here and afterwards the three of us will go register based on the outcome. I've wondered if we should have. Should this just be a moment for me and Clif? But now, I'm glad we did. They'll always be able to say they were there when we found out the first time.
I know it's a girl. I can feel it down to the bottom most trenches of my heart. The moment I saw those two pink lines appear on the stick, I started thinking of girl names. I've only looked at girl clothes and girl nurseries. I've told anyone who would listen that it absolutely must be a girl because I've never felt something so deeply before...but what if it's not?
What if right in this moment I have to completely change my whole thinking?
What if all my instincts and all my thoughts have been wrong?
She moves the probe over my skin and begins speaking:
There's his heart.
His? Did she say his? Did she mean his? Or does she just refer to all babies as "his/him/he" until the sex is actually known? My heart is pounding even harder now and hot tears begin to blur my eyes.
I want to ask but I don't want to seem too eager...of course I care more about HER heart than I do HER sex. But I just can't be wrong. I hate being wrong. Then she talks again:
Now I'm measuring his head.
There it is again...his! I can't contain myself any longer.
So it's a boy? I blurt out, a bit too harshly.
She glances at me sideways. She is definitely judging me. She thinks I only care about the sex. I don't only care about the sex, but seriously? It's all anyone talks about. Shouldn't you just get that part out of the way so I can really focus on the important stuff?
I refer to them all that way, until I know for sure.
My pounding heart calms a bit, but I'm wondering if here and now I should announce that it must be a boy...just in case.
She continues through all the checks: head diameter, abdomen size, arm and leg lengths, umbilical cord.
So, are we finding out the sex? she asks dryly without making eye contact.
I can't believe she just asked me that. Did we not just have that very awkward moment 2 minutes ago?
We all nod.
She turns back to the screen, pushes my abdomen to get the position right, clicks a picture and types G-I-R-L on the screen.
My heart leaps. It seems surreal. I've known all along but I can barely believe it. A girl! A sweet, pink, chubby little girl with bows and dresses and pink and purple. My first baby will be a girl.
I smile, look at my family and say Told you!